


Hidden in Snow

by Yukichouji



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A dash of Sweet Pea backstory, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hypothermia, M/M, Past Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Protective Sweet Pea (Riverdale), Sharing Body Heat, Smut, Snarky boys, Snowed In, Soft Boys, cuddling for warmth, general stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukichouji/pseuds/Yukichouji
Summary: “Explain to me again, why we’re out here freezing our asses off, while everyone else is cozied away somewhere warm and dry and a lot less fucking windy?” Sweet Pea grumbles, tucking his scarf tighter around his neck and crossing his arms in front of his chest against the chill.They’ve been trudging through the woods in the middle of fucking October for a good one and a half hours already and it started snowing in earnest about half an hour in. By now it’s gotten bad enough that it’s hard to see clearly anything that’s more than a couple feet ahead, it’s not a real snowstorm yet, not quite, but it’s definitely well on its way there and Sweet Pea kind of thinks that they should have hauled ass out of here a good while ago. But, of course, Jones is way too fucking stubborn to let himself be deterred by the fucking weather, no matter that his lips are stating to turn blue from the cold and he didn’t even bring a damn scarf. How does one go out in temperatures near freezing point without a fucking scarf?
Relationships: Jughead Jones/Sweet Pea
Comments: 12
Kudos: 127





	Hidden in Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gaffsie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaffsie/gifts).



> Look, I wrote something that doesn't require the non-con warning... *clears throat nervously*
> 
> I miss the snow and I miss winter and I just kind of felt like writing something sweet for once, so here you go.
> 
> This is a gift for the wonderful [Gaffsie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaffsie/pseuds/Gaffsie). Because you and your amazing writing were what made me fall in love with these two idiots in the first place, back when I'd just finished watching season one a couple months ago and I had to google Sweet Pea, because I didn't even know who he was yet... I hope you like.
> 
> Have a merry effin' Christmas, y'all. It'll pass.

~*~*~

“Explain to me again, why we’re out here freezing our asses off, while everyone else is cozied away somewhere warm and dry and a lot less fucking windy?” Sweet Pea grumbles, tucking his scarf tighter around his neck and crossing his arms in front of his chest against the chill.

They’ve been trudging through the woods in the middle of fucking October for a good one and a half hours already and it started snowing in earnest about half an hour in. By now it’s gotten bad enough that it’s hard to see clearly anything that’s more than a couple feet ahead, it’s not a real snowstorm yet, not quite, but it’s definitely well on its way there and Sweet Pea kind of thinks that they should have hauled ass out of here a good while ago. But, of course, Jones is way too fucking stubborn to let himself be deterred by the fucking weather, no matter that his lips are stating to turn blue from the cold and he didn’t even bring a damn scarf. How does one go out in temperatures near freezing point without a fucking scarf?

“I already _told_ you, like, three times!” Jughead throws back at Sweet Pea, irritated and not trying to hide it, teeth chattering as he stuffs his hands into his armpits to keep some of the warmth in them. “One of our scouts thinks they saw a couple of Gargoyles hiding out near the Lodge’s cabin, the one where they kept Sheriff Minetta, after Hiram faked his death. So we’re checking it out. I know it’s probably a fluke, but we still need to make sure. Besides, we’re almost there. It doesn’t make sense to turn back now.”

It’s true, Sweet Pea can just so see the darker silhouette of the cabin looming in between the trees up ahead, still a ways out, but not that far anymore. He’s still pissed for having been dragged out here in this weather on what will most likely turn out to be another wild goose chase and the way the wind is picking up, the chill easily creeping in through his leather jacket, regardless of the three layers of shirts he’s wearing underneath, isn’t exactly helping his mood.

“So why do _I_ have to be the one out here with you?” Sweet Pea pushes on, just out of spite. They’ve been through this, too, but he figures that maybe picking a fight with Jones will give him something other than the cold to think about. “If there really is a chance that we’re going to find Gargoyles out here, shouldn’t we at least have brought a couple more people?”

“We’re stretched thin enough as it is.” Jones throws back at him, scowling and frustrated with Sweet Pea’s attitude and probably just as cold and miserable as Sweet Pea is, if not more so, though plenty stubborn enough to not acknowledge it. “And you’re worth at least as much as two regular guys when push comes to shove, so _that’s_ why you’re here. Now can you _please_ shut up about it for, like, ten minutes so that we can get this over with and get the Hell out of here?”

Sweet Pea can’t help the smirk that creeps across his face at the compliment, however grudgingly it may have been given, and he decides to give Jones a break, at least for a little while. If that makes him easy, so what? Sweet Pea does take pride in his ability to kick ass, thank you very much and it never hurts to have that acknowledged.

By the time they’re almost at the cabin, the snow on the ground is up to their ankles and Sweet Pea guesses it’s probably here to stay this time around, at least out here in the woods. Once they get back to town, it’ll likely be nothing more than an annoying, gray-ish sludge at the sides of the road, the streets and sidewalks not yet ready to give in to winter's clutches completely. A few steps ahead of him, Jughead goes still and motions Sweet Pea to stop, one hand coming up to shield his eyes from the snow as he looks out past the cabin.

The cabin itself looks pretty deserted, no fresh tracks in the snow, no smoke coming out of the chimney to indicate a fire, or light streaming through the cracks in the shutters covering the windows. Just another sign pointing towards Sweet Pea’s growing suspicion that they’re being given the runaround, but then Sweet Pea sees it, too. A darker silhouette against the all encompassing white of the snow on a clearing up ahead, vaguely man-shaped and sized, frozen to the spot, it seems. Jones motions for Sweet Pea to be quiet, as if he hadn’t figured that much out himself, thanks, and then ducks down a little, slowly slipping from tree to tree as they carefully creep closer.

It doesn’t seem like they’ve been spotted, the figure up ahead doesn’t make a move to flee, at least, but the whole thing seems a little off to Sweet Pea. Why the Hell would anyone be out here in the middle of nowhere in the cold, alone, and then just fucking stand around in the snow like a statue. He’s not even sure the figure _is_ human. It could be a lonely tree or even a fucking mock-up to scare away trespassers or something. Or, Sweet Pea thinks, it could be a trap.

They reach the edge of the trees and Jones crouches down behind the last tree trunk between them and the clearing, peering around it carefully. Sweet Pea still can’t make out anything more precise than a dark outline against the white and gray of the falling snow in the fading light of the overcast, afternoon sky and there’s no movement to speak of. Jones furrows his brow like he’s mulling something over.

“I don’t thinks that’s actually a person.” Jones whispers, confirming Sweet Pea’s suspicion. “I’m gonna go check it out anyway. You stay here, in case it’s a trap or something.”

Sweet Pea doesn’t particularly like the idea of being left behind, but he figures this isn’t the time to argue, so he stays quiet and does as he’s told, while Jughead carefully leaves the cover of the trees and steps out into the clearing. There’s a vague itch at the back of Sweet Pea’s mind like his subconscious is trying to tell him something, the shadow of a memory from the last time he was here, but he can’t quite grasp it. It isn’t until he can hear the faint, precarious creak of ice shifting underfoot just up ahead, that it comes back to him.

That’s not a clearing, it’s a fucking lake.

Sweet Pea burst into motion, yelling “Wait! Come back!”, all caution thrown to the wind as he rushes out form the treeline, but it’s already too late. Jones turns around, startled, just a handful of steps ahead of Sweet Pea. Then there’s another high, whining sound from beneath Jones’ feat, followed by a louder, splintering crack and one moment Jones is standing there, wide-eyed as he realizes what’s happening, the next he’s just gone as the ice gives way beneath him and swallows him up.

Chanting out a frantic string of ‘shit, shit, shit’ under his breath, heart racing, Sweet Pea steps onto the ice. He’s heavier than Jones by a good bit, so chances are he won’t get as far as Jones did before the ice gives out under his weight, but maybe, if he moves really carefully, he can get close enough anyway. He takes three cautious steps, waiting a moment after each one to listen for the creaking that precedes the ice cracking, even though every fiber of his body is screaming at him to hurry the fuck up. When he gets close to the edge of the break, he lowers himself down first onto all fours, then onto his belly, spreading out his weight as best he can and scoots the last little bit until he can plunge his arms into the chill of the water below, the ice creaking loudly but holding for now.

The cold is a shock to his system and it’s sucks the feeling right out of his fingers, the ice shifting dangerously underneath his chest, but he can see the outline of what looks like Jones’ head and shoulders just below the surface. They’re still close to the shore, so maybe they’re lucky and the water isn’t that deep yet, plus, since it’s a lake and not the river, there shouldn’t be any heavy currents. His fingers brush against something solid, but slip as he tries to get a hold so he has to reach deeper. Finally, his teeth pressed together against the pain of the cold, his hand closes around something that feels a lot like an arm and he scoots back and pulls, bit by excruciating bit, until Jones’ head breaks the surface of the lake and he can drag him across the ice, away form the hole in it. As soon as they’re on steady ground Sweet Pea kneels down next to Jones’ still form, cards his fingers together and uses both of his palms to press down on Jones’ chest, hard.

A swell of water gushes up out of Jones’ mouth, lips closer to black than blue as he doubles over and rolls to his side, coughing up the rest of the water in his lungs on his own.

“Jesus, fuck.” Sweet Pea breathes out, his hands numb and clumsy, and he breathes a quiet thanks to whoever’s listening. FP would have had his head on a stake, if Sweet Pea’d let his son fucking die on him. They’re not out of the woods yet, though, so to speak. Because if they don’t find shelter and get warm, Jones is still going to freeze to death and fast.

“Come on, up.” Sweet Pea grunts as he struggles to get Jones to his feet. It’s awkward and uncoordinated and Jones is kind of heavier, than he looks, but they manage eventually. Jones is still sputtering and coughing, but he tries his best to move with Sweet Pea as Sweet Pea steers them towards the cabin. It’s the best option they’ve got right now, if Sweet Pea can find a way to get in. Because, he doesn’t think they’re going to make the track back to their bikes, not without loosing body parts at least and he’d kind of really, really like to avoid that.

Trying the front door to the cabin confirms Sweet Pea’s assumption, because it turns out to be locked and it looks sturdy enough to make breaking in more trouble than he’d like. All of the windows he can see from here have their shutters drawn, too. “Give me a second.” He says and leaves Jones leaning against the side of the cabin so that Sweet Pea can walk around it and try to find an easier in. Jughead looks miserable, wet and shivering, his arms wrapped around himself, skin blue-ish where it’s showing, and he doesn’t argue with Sweet Pea at all. Just does as he’s told, which kind of worries Sweet Pea, to be honest, but as long as Jones is shaking it means that his body’s still trying to fight off the cold and that’s a good sign. He hurries anyway, ‘cause he’s plenty fucking cold himself, his hands and arms dangerously numb.

It takes him a moment to find, because it’s half hidden behind some strategically placed evergreen branches, but Sweet Pea locates a backdoor for the cabin. It’s locked too, but it’s not as sturdy as the front door and Sweet Pea breaks it open with one well placed kick near the lock. They’ll just shove something in front of it from the inside to keep it closed or something, he figures and it’s not like he feels any regret whatsoever for damaging Lodge property. They can fucking afford to get it fixed, if they even care that much.

It doesn’t look like there’s any electricity, they would have needed a generator this far out, but Sweet Pea didn’t see one when he was rounding the cabin, so he doesn’t bother trying to find a light switch. He rummages around in his pockets, fingers clumsy from the cold, until he finds his lighter and uses the small flame to make his way to the front door. He still bumps his shin on what he figures is a couch table or something and curses under his breath a couple times for good measure, but he eventually makes it.

Getting the door open from the inside is a lot easier, than Sweet Pea’d thought it would be, ‘cause there’s actually a key still in the lock and all he has to do is turn it. That’s just sloppy, Sweet Pea can’t help but think, but as long as it works in his favor, he really doesn’t care. Jones is still right were Sweet Pea left him, eyes closed and head leaning back against the side of the cabin and for a moment Sweet Pea’s kind of worried he turned into one of those weird ice statues you see in old superhero movies sometimes, but Jones opens his eyes and starts moving as soon as Sweet Pea touches his shoulder to get his attention.

Once they're both inside and both doors are firmly closed behind them to keep out the chill of the rising wind, Sweet Pea leaves Jones near the cold fireplace and tells him to wait there as he goes to get the lay of the land. There are a bunch of candles standing around on different surfaces and Sweet Pea lights them whenever he passes one, the cabin slowly flooding with flickering light. It’s basically one big room with a small but decent kitchen area, a dining table, a couple of couches near the fire place and a queen sized bed not far off. The place isn’t huge, but it’s still pretty luxurious for a cabin in the middle of the fucking woods. Not that Sweet Pea’s complaining. Right now he’s a man with a mission, though. He can admire the interior design later.

There’s one more door in the cabin and he peeks inside to find the bathroom, complete with bathtub and everything. There was a water tank outside with a wood oven underneath to heat it up, he thinks. For now though, Sweet Pea just grabs a stack of towels from the cabinet next to the sink, all of them ridiculously soft and fluffy and one equally textured bathrobe from the hook on the back of the door.

When he comes back, he tosses the whole bundle at Jones, who drops half of it onto the floor because his limbs are sluggish and uncooperative, shaking like a leaf on a tree, and he glares at Sweet Pea a little. Sweet Pea figures it would be more effective if he didn’t look like a drowned rat right now, wet and miserable and teeth chattering so badly it sounds kind of painful. There’s a grin pulling at his lips and he coughs to cover it up. Jones’ eyes still narrow at him unpleasantly.

“Strip.” Sweet Pea tells him, and maybe he shouldn’t enjoy the fact that he’s the one, who gets to order Jones around for once quite this much, but then again, his grandma, God rest her soul, always told him how important it was to cherish the little things. “I’ll get a fire started.”

Jughead huffs out an irritated breath, but turns around to drop his armful of towels and the robe onto the arm of a nearby couch and starts to comply anyway. There’re a couple logs already stacked in the hearth, some more up against the wall next to the fireplace, dry and ready to be burnt, enough to last them through the night at least, if they end up stuck here for that long and it takes almost no time at all to get the fire going. Sweet Pea’s gotten more than enough practice lately, what with them living in tents and all, campfires turning into nightly rituals, especially now that the weather has gotten colder. Though they’re probably going to have to figure out an alternative to their current living situation soon. The heat that starts to spread out from the flames is such a relief, he takes a moment just to hold his numb fingers to it and soak it up until some of the feeling returns, pins and needles in his veins.

Sweet Pea shrugs off his jacket and the sweater and shirt underneath, leaving him in his t-shirt, and drapes them over the back of a chair near the hearth so that the sleeves can dry. The rest of the cabin is still plenty cold and it makes him shiver, goose bumps pebbling up his bare arms. He rubs his cold hands up and down his forearms to smooth out the skin.

Sweet Pea turns around just in time to see Jones swaying precariously, trying to balance on one foot as he struggles to get the wet sock off of the other. All he’s wearing are his boxers and his stupid hat and Sweet Pea has to suppress the urge to shake his head at the sight of him, feeling a little exasperated. He walks over just in time to grab Jones’ shoulders and keep him from falling onto his pretty fucking face.

Jones makes a weird squeaky sound of surprise and Sweet Pea will go to his grave denying that he finds it kind of really, really cute. Jones’ skin is icy, though, even under Sweet Pea’s cold fingers and it reminds him that they should probably hurry things up a little. He grabs the soggy hat and pulls it off of Jones’ head. It gives a wet splat when it hits the wooden floorboards near where the rest of Jones’ clothes are piled up.

“Hey!” Jones complains through chattering teeth and turns around to glare at Sweet Pea, but Sweet Pea just grabs one of the towels, drapes it over Jones’ head unceremoniously and rubs it over his hair roughly until Jones clumsily bats his hands away. Huffing at Sweet Pea as he scowls up at him from under the wet, half-frozen fringe peeking out beneath the towel. It’s kind of adorable, even if Jones is shaking hard enough that Sweet Pea feels like he should be able to hear his bones rattle.

“Get moving.” Sweet Pea tells him and then adds, gesturing at Jones’ underwear. “Those, too. Unless you wanna risk losing your junk to frostbite.”

Jones’ eyes widen and he looks vaguely mortified, so Sweet Pea does the decent thing and turns his back on him, even though he has to work kind of hard to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, Jones is cute, Sweet Pea isn’t going to try and deny that he thinks so, at least not to himself. He’s made his fucking peace with it. But it’s not like he’s never seen another guy’s junk before and it’s only awkward, if you let it be. Jones, though, would be exactly the type to get all flustered and embarrassed about it, even in a situation like this.

Sweet Pea huffs out a breath and goes to check out the bed. It’s covered in a throw blanket that has a light coating of dust on it, just like all of the other surfaces in the cabin, but the pillows and blanket underneath look and smell clean enough. So Sweet Pea just gets rid of the throw blanked and folds back the actual blanket enough to make getting in easy. Once he’s heard the sound of another wet piece of clothing hit the floor, Sweet Pea counts slowly to five in his head and then turns around just in time to see Jones struggle while trying to tie the belt of the bathrobe.

“Jesus.” Sweet Pea mutters under his breath and stomps over. He bats Jones’ hands away and catches the lapels of the robe before it can fall open completely, then tucks it securely around Jones’ lithe frame and ties the belt for him. He jostles Jones around a little, and Jones makes another one of those dismayed sounds in the back of his throat, but Sweet Pea just ignores him. This is not the time for velvet gloves and Sweet Pea’s pretty sure Jones won’t break, if he gets a little rough.

Jones may look scrawny and kind of breakable, what with his soft features and slender hands, but Sweet Pea’s seen him in a tank top before and he knows for a fact that Jones is actually hiding some halfway decent muscle underneath all of those layers of clothing he likes to wear. His build isn’t as impressive as say, Sweet Pea’s, not by a long shot, but he has a flat chest, a hard stomach and nice arms none the less. Sweet Pea might be hard pressed to say exactly where he gets them from, cause Jones sure as Hell isn’t the athletic type, but it’s not like Sweet Pea minds either way. Jones still couldn’t throw a decent punch, if his life depended on it, though. It’s kind of sad.

He grabs Jones by the shoulders, spins him around and steers him towards the bed and he’s kind of pleased, when, aside form some grumbling, Jones doesn’t try to fight him. He really likes Jones a whole lot better, when he’s mellow and docile like this, Sweet Pea decides. “Bed.” He orders, too cold himself to bother with a lot of fancy words or niceties and, of course Jones can’t help but give him shit for it.

“You always this charming? The girls must be all over you...” Jones stutters, his chattering teeth getting in the way of his normally so smooth articulation, but he does as he’s told anyway. Clumsily climbs onto the mattress and pulls the fluffy and no-doubt really expensive blanket around himself until he looks like a breakfast burrito, his wet hair flopping gracelessly across the pillow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Sweet Pea shoots back, a hint of a challenge in his eyes and Jones goes red as a fucking tomato and averts his gaze, pulls the blanket further up around his shoulder so that he can hide in it. Riiight. Sweet Pea snorts and hurries to gather up Jones’ wet clothes and drape them over the backs of a couple of chairs Sweet Pea drags close to the fire so that they can dry. If the snowfall outside doesn’t turn into an actual storm, the way it looked like it might earlier, they’ll be able to get out of here as soon as everything’s wearable and Jones is back to working temperature again. No big deal at all. If they do get snowed in, though…

Sweet Pea takes a moment to rummage through the kitchen and actually finds a couple cans of baked beans in one of the cabinets. So at least they won’t starve if they don’t make it back to civilization today and they can always just melt some of the snow for drinking water. Small miracles and all that. He thinks about heading out and getting a fire started in the oven underneath the water tank, but decides that he can always do that later, when his jacket and Sweater are dry, if it turns out to be necessary.

So instead, he steps back up to the other side of the bed and starts shrugging off clothes. Jones turns to look at him at the sound of rustling fabric and his eyes go kind of wide at the sight of Sweet pea topless and reaching for the button and zipper on his jeans.

“What are you doing?” Jughead squeaks and Sweet Pea can’t help but roll his eyes as he kicks off his jeans and his socks.

“Speeding up the process of getting you warm, dumbass. Now scoot.” Sweet Pea shoots back and lifts up the blanket so that he can crawl in next to Jones, who just kind of stares at him, mouth slightly agape and face so red Sweet Pea wonders if he needs to worry about the possibility of a stroke. It wold be funny, if it weren’t also kind of insulting. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna fucking molest you or some shit, _princess._ Ever heard of sharing body heat?”

“You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?” Jughead mutters under his breath before he flops onto his side, his back to Sweet Pea and shivering miserably.

“Yep.” Sweet Pea retorts cheerily and scoots closer until he can slot his front against Jones’ back and gather him up in his arms. Jones’ skin is uncomfortably cold and kind of clammy where it’s not covered by the bathrobe and Sweet Pea shivers a little at the contact. He can already feel his own body temperature rise trying to compensate for it and he tucks the blanket around the both of them tightly to preserve the warmth that’s starting to build up.

“God, you’re hot.” Jones rushes out, a full body shudder running through him and he scoots back, trying to get closer. It’s a little weird, having him pressed up against Sweet Pea, shaking and chattering as he is, but Sweet Pea just lets him, tightens his arms to help keep him close.

“So I’ve been told.” He retorts dryly and it has the desired effect of making Jones huff out a laugh.

“Shut up.” Jones shoots back, but it’s kind of half-assed and Sweet Pea doesn’t really mind.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sweet Pea hides his grin against he top of Jones’ head, wet hair tickling his nose. Jones smells good, Sweet Pea can’t help but notice. Clean and fresh like the snow outside, the faint scent of Axe body wash, and something warm and kind of comforting underneath all that, that Sweet Pea can’t entirely place. It reminds him off the logs burning in the fireplace, of blankets pre-warmed by the radiator on cold days or waking up to his mom making breakfast for the entire family, back before his brother’d gone off to fight for his country and never come back. Before his family had fallen apart, his dad up and gone to drink himself into an early grave somewhere and his mom telling him he needed to find his own place because she just couldn’t afford to feed him _and_ his three little sisters anymore.

But that’s a thought for another time and place and he shakes it off before the solitary dog-tag around his neck can get too heavy. Things are what they fucking are. There’s no use getting all heartbroken and gloomy over them, if you can avoid it. Life has to go on, yada, yada, and all that shit.

Besides, he’s here spooning Jughead Jones, almighty Serpent leader Northside pretty boy, and while it may be entirely platonic, Sweet Pea doesn’t really see a reason not to enjoy it a little. It would be a lot nicer, if Jones weren’t so fucking cold. But it’s starting to get better, slowly but surely and even the shaking and chattering is dying down somewhat.

Sweet Pea’s kind of always known that he liked both girls and guys and he’s never understood why some people made such a big deal out of it. People have preferences. It’s just the way things go. And yeah, Jones is kind of hot, Sweet Pea’s got eyes, thanks. Jones would totally be his type, too, smart, pretty face, elegant hands and that pouty mouth of his with those stupidly large, stupidly cute front teeth that peak out whenever Jones lets his guard dwon enough to laugh in earnest. If it weren’t for his fucking holier-than-though, pretentious attitude and his way

-out-of-his-league, blond bombshell Northside girlfriend.

Both points are kind of a turn-off for Sweet Pea, even if Sweet Pea’s still pretty fucking sure that there’s no way Jones is entirely straight. And the situation with his attitude _has_ gotten somewhat better since that first day at Southside High, when he refused to sit with Sweet Pea and the others because he didn’t want anything to do with the Serpents. Jones is actually even a halfway decent leader, once he gets his head out of his ass and takes a good, sober look at things. And there’s no way Sweet Pea’s ever going to forget that Jones almost died trying to protect the Serpents during Riot Night, fully prepared to sacrifice himself to keep the rest of them safe.

That shit takes some balls. And it sure as Hell earned him Sweet Pea’s respect. Which still leaves the girlfriend situation. But, whatever. It’s not like a man can’t be allowed to fantasize a little and, as cliched as it might be, Sweet Pea is definitely going to use this the next time he needs some spank material. Jones is never going to find out, so why feel bad about it?

Sweet Pea shifts his weight, feeling a little restless. At the movement Jones makes a startled, breathy little sound and, well shit, Sweet Pea really needs to start thinking about something less dangerous, or things are going to get kind of embarrassing. Instead of moving away form him, though, Jones presses back against Sweet Pea, the rise and fall of Jones’ chest picking up underneath Sweet Pea’s palms and, _oh._ Sweet Pea shifts his hand a little lower, just the tiniest bit, fingers brushing the knot on the belt of Jones’ bathrobe, to test his theory and, yeah.

Jones sucks in a breath and shudders, face turning to the side to press into the pillow, a futile attempt to hide the color high on his cheeks. Well, shit, Sweet Pea thinks. Jones is actually is _hot for him._ And as soon as that realization has sunk in, Sweet Pea can’t stop his body from reacting anymore, blood rushing south with an alarming speed. He cants his hips back a little, trying his best to not make this situation any more awkward than it already is.

“Sorry.” Jones mumbles into the pillow, sounding breathless and kind of small. Sweet Pea wants to lean in and press his lips to the back of Jones’ neck, open his mouth to chase the salt on his clammy skin, but he pulls back a little further instead, giving Jones some space.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sweet Pea tries for light, but even to his own ears his voice sounds kind of rough. “You’re not the first guy to have a little sexual crisis ‘cause of me. What can I say? I’m hot shit. I promise not to tell your girlfriend about it, if you don’t.”

Jones shuffles around in Sweet Pea’s arms, just enough so that he can look at Sweet Pea, neck stretched wide and looking kind of flustered with his bright eyes and the blush on his face. His brows are furrowed as if in confusion. “Betty?”

Sweet Pea huffs out a laugh. Jones looks so fucking adorable right now, it’s really not fair, not one bit. “You got any other girls lined up I don’t know about?” Sweet Pea shoots back, one eyebrow raised for good measure.

“No, I –“ Jones’ face pulls into a frown, nose scrunching up in a way that kind of makes Sweet Pea want to reach out a finger and nudge it. And if that isn’t fucking embarrassing, Sweet Pea doesn’t know what is. “Betty and I, we broke up a while ago. We kind of figured out that we like each other. A lot. Just not, you know, like that.”

“Oh.” Well, shit. How the fuck had that gotten past Sweet Pea? It kind of feels like there’s more to the story than Jones is telling him, there has to be a reason they’re still _pretending_ they’re together, because the way those two act around each other doesn’t exactly scream ‘not a couple anymore’. And maybe Sweet Pea should ask about it, get some more clarity, ‘cause the last thing he wants is to be someone’s side-dude or something. He just ain’t built for that shit.

Right now, though, he’s kind of preoccupied with something else and he figures, if Jones says they’re not together anymore, then that’s the state of things Sweet Pea’ll go with. So he does what he’s been wanting to do for an embarrassingly long time and leans in until he can press a kiss to Jones’ cold mouth. Despite how badly he wants to just jump right in, no holds barred, he takes care to make it soft, tender like a question. Because he needs Jones to know that he can pull back, that he can stop Sweet Pea any time he wants, just in case Sweet Pea’s misreading the situation somehow. He’d really, really hate to ruin this grudging sort of friendship that they’d managed to build up over the course of the last couple of months.

Cause if that’s all he can have, he’d very much like to hold onto it.

Jones freezes for a moment, like a deer caught in the headlights, just long enough for Sweet Pea to start panicking, but then Jones makes a sound almost like a whine, low and needy and twists around until he can meet Sweet Pea head on. Jones kisses back like a drowning man chasing after air, pressing up against Sweet Pea, still so fucking cold to the touch and Sweet Pea moves his hands to Jones’ narrow shoulders so that he can rub his palms up and down Jones’ arms to speed up the blood flow.

The way it makes Jones shudder and gasp into the kiss goes straight to Sweet Pea’s dick. He uses the opportunity to get in some tongue and Jones meets him halfway, eager for it, opening his mouth wider to let Sweet Pea in and God, that’s hot. Sweet Pea rolls them over until he’s half on top of Jones, one of his thighs lodging in between Jones’, so much skin to skin, and he can fucking feel how into it Jones is, pressed hard and surprisingly hot against Sweet Pea’s hip. And, yep, Jones is definitely very naked underneath that stupid robe.

Sweet Pea pulls back a little to catch his breath and God, the way Jones _looks_ with the flush that’s slowly spreading form his face down to his chest and his lips all pink and shiny, kiss swollen and slightly parted in favor of sucking in air. Jones’ hands come up to land, palms flat and fingers spread out wide, on Sweet Pea’s chest, so cold it makes Sweet Pea shiver, the look on Jones’ face almost reverent. One of Jones’ fingers brushes Sweet Pea’s nipple and Sweet Pea sucks in a breath, before delving right back in, his mouth finding Jones’, Jones’ lips slowly beginning to warm under Sweet Pea’s.

Sweet Pea reaches down between them until he finds the knot in the belt of the robe and starts plucking at it, fingers a little clumsy, but he manages anyway. Once that’s dealt with, he brushes the lapels aside, his palm smoothing over Jones’ stomach, the skin so fucking soft but the muscles underneath hard and Sweet Pea digs his fingers in a little just to hear Jones moan into the kiss. Jones archs up into his touch, not shy at all about how much he wants it and Sweet Pea groans as he shoves open the robe, sucks on Jones’ full bottom lip and then nips at it just hard enough to hear Jones gasp again.

They have to break apart, so that Sweet Pea can push the stupid bathrobe off of Jones’ shoulders and Jones sits up a little so that he can get rid of it completely. This way, in the flickering light of the fire in the hearth and the candles all around them, Sweet Pea can really look at Jones. All of that pale fucking skin, the smattering of moles all over like someone took a brush and flicked bits of paint onto a canvas, his nipples dark and pebbled, the pronounced rise of his collarbone and the way it flows outward to blend into the arch of his shoulders. His narrow hips and skinny thighs. The trail of dark hair that starts just below the dip of his belly button and then moves lower, lower, dragging Sweet Pea’s eyes with it, to where Jones’ dick is nestled in the dark curls, red and swollen as it archs up towards his stomach, the head puffy and glistening with pre-come.

Sweet Pea glances back up to Jones’ face only to find that Jones is doing his own share of looking, front teeth peaking out to worry at his bottom lip, his fingers twitching nervously on Sweet Pea’s hips. It makes Sweet Pea feel hot all over and he can’t help but preen a little under Jones’ intent gaze.

“Can I?” Jones looks up to meet Sweet Pea’s eyes, pupils blown and voice sounding breathy and a little desperate, fingers tugging lightly at the waistband of Sweet Pea’s boxers.

“Knock yourself out.” Sweet Pea tells him, going for cocky and enjoying the way it makes Jones’ blush deepen as his face twists into a cute little frown of concentration. Sweet Pea’s already so fucking hard, tenting his boxers, a wet spot forming on the fabric around the head of his dick. Jones is so careful as he pulls down Sweet Pea’s underwear, slowly lifting the elastic band over Sweet Pea’s dick and the cool air against his heated skin has Sweet Pea hiss in a breath through his teeth.

Jones’ eyes go a little wide, mouth falling open just so and if that isn’t a fucking ego boost Sweet Pea doesn’t know what is. It’s not like his dick is ridiculously huge or anything, like it is with some porn stars, but he’s got a decent size going, he knows that much and he’d be lying, if he tried to deny that he takes some pride in it. Jones’ slender fingers wrap around Sweet Pea’s dick and Sweet Pea sucks in a breath and jerks back a little at the shock of it.

“Fuck, you have cold hands.” Sweet Pea rushes out and Jones drops his hands back to the mattress, face twisted into a sheepish grimace, mumbling a soft “Sorry.” under his breath.

“We’ll get you warmed up. That’s the whole point, right?” Sweet Pea smirks down at him and he can see Jones’ eyes narrowing at the jab, mouth falling open to voice some sarcastic retort, no doubt. Sweet Pea shuts him up, by putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back into the sheets, Jones gasping at his touch, eyelids fluttering.

“Spread your legs for me.” Sweet Pea tells him, tone a little rough and he can hear Jones’ breath catch, see the way he worries his lip and his eyes dart to the side, away from Sweet Pea’s. But Jones does as he’s told anyway, sweet as anything, his legs falling apart, exposing himself further just because Sweet Pea told him to, those elegant fingers digging into the sheets and twisting around them. The sight sends heat rushing through his stomach and down to his groin where it pools and he can’t help the little smirk that twists his lips up on one side. Too fucking easy. Too fucking hot.

A little desperate and plenty breathless himself, Sweet Pea scrambles to get between Jones’ legs, runs his hands up Jones’ thighs, fingers catching on the soft hairs there, up to his hips, brushing across his stomach where the muscles flutter under his touch, ticklish. Jones lifts up to press into Sweet Pea’s touch, mouth falling open on a moan when Sweet Pea pushes back, presses him into the mattress, leaving him no-where to go. So cold to the touch but warming slowly under Sweet Pea’s palms.

Sweet Pea sinks back down until he’s covering Jones like a blanket, pulling the covers with him and they both moan when their dicks line up and brush against one another. Jones’ stomach is still cold, but his dick is hot, the skin velvety soft against Sweet Pea’s and he starts up a smooth rhythm, thrusting against Jones lower belly, brushing their dicks together with every back and forth slide.

Jones cants his hips to meet him, his arms coming up to wrap around Sweet Pea’s shoulders, clinging like he just can’t get close enough and Sweet Pea can’t help but kiss him again. The slide of their tongues is easy and hot, like the slide of their dicks, pre-come smearing between them to make it slick and perfect, shooting sparks of pleasure down his spine to pool and build at its base.

Jones is panting against Sweet Pea’s lips, their chests pressed together, their stomachs, until there’s hardly enough room for Sweet Pea to keep thrusting his hips so he switches to a rolling motion. Heat building with the perfect amount of friction, Jones’ face screwed up in concentration, chasing after that high, that steadily climbing pressure low in his belly, same as Sweet Pea, his body lighting up with warmth under Sweet Pea’s touch.

And Sweet Pea lets his hands wander, their panting breaths loud in the otherwise quiet of the cabin, a sound that wraps around Sweet Pea like a cocoon. He breaks away from Jones’ mouth to kiss along the delicate swell of his cheek, down to the juncture of his jaw, that soft stretch of skin just beneath his ear and runs his teeth across it, his fingers digging into Jones’ sides, so fucking close. Jones whines helplessly, hips stuttering, loosing his rhythm and Sweet Pea reaches down, hooks one of Jones’ thighs over his shoulder to open him up wider, get a better angle and speeds up his thrusts. Sweat salt-slick on his tongue as he traces the arch of Jones’ neck with it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck –“ Jones breathes a strained litany of curses, his eyes screwed shut and his head pressed back into the pillows, hair a glorious mess, blunt fingernails digging grooves into Sweet Pea’s shoulders. And then he’s coming, shooting hot ropes of come across both of their stomachs, thick and sticky, twitching against Sweet Pea. A sound almost like a keen stuck somewhere at the back of his throat, his face all scrunched up, pink lips shiny and slick and it’s so fucking hot. Sweet Pea gives two, three more thrusts, Jones shuddering against him every time Sweet Pea brushes against his dick, so sensitive right now, and then Sweet Pea’s coming too, adding to the mess between them, a rush of heat like a tidal wave low in his gut.

All of the strength drained out of him, Sweet Pea collapses on top of Jones, crushing him into the mattress, both of them fighting to catch their breath and Jones makes a little ‘oomph’ sound as the air gets knocked out of his lungs.

“Fuck, sorry.” Sweet Pea mumbles and rolls to the side until he’s not crushing Jones anymore.

Jones makes a non-committal sound and pats at Sweet Pea’s arm weakly, his limbs clumsy and kind of useless, the way it should be after a good orgasm. Sweet Pea can more than relate. “Holy shit, that was awesome.” Sweet Pea breathes, kind of reverent and that makes Jones choke out a laugh.

“Yeah.” Jones sounds kind of dopey and Sweet Pea chances a glance at him. He’s a total mess. Cheeks as red as his mouth, hair all over the fucking place, sweaty and kind of gross with both of their come smeared across his stomach, same as Sweet Pea. It might just be one of the hottest things Sweet Pea’s seen so far.

He leans in and presses another kiss to Jones’ lips, just because he can, loose and happy and a little sloppy and Jones sighs against his mouth and melts into his touch. Well, shit. And all it took for them to finally get there was a near death experience, Sweet Pea thinks, a little loopy with his post orgasmic high. But the come’s starting to dry on his skin, which feels kind of gross, so he decides, with an appropriate amount of grumbling, to heave himself out of bed and over to where Jones left his pile of towels.

Using one of them to scrub the sticky mess off of his own stomach, then dropping it to the ground carelessly, he grabs another and brings it back over with him. Jones has one arm thrown across his eyes and all he does is groan and twitch a little when Sweet Pea wipes him down perfunctorily. Looks like they’ll be staying the night after all, Sweet Pea thinks.

“You thirsty?” He asks, nudging Jones’ shoulder a little to get a reaction out of him.

Jones bats his hand away and pulls one of the pillows over his face to block Sweet Pea out. “’M fine.” is all Sweet Pea can make out, muffled as Jones’ voice is and he huffs out a laugh.

Feeling around in the sheets until he finds his boxers Sweet Pea pulls them back on, then heads to the kitchen area and grabs two pots from one of the cabinets. He cracks open the back door just wide enough so that he can scoop up a bit of the snow outside, that’s piled up to mid shin and is still falling from the gray sky overhead steadily, then closes the door again quickly, before too much of the warmth can escape. The pots get placed down near the hearth, so that the snow can melt in peace and Sweet Pea throws another log onto the fire before wedging the chair he’d used to keep the back door shut beneath the handle and then crawling back into bed with Jones.

Jones protests weakly when Sweet Pea pulls the pillow away from his face and pushes at his shoulders until he rolls onto his side so that Sweet Pea can spoon up against his back, like they were before. Jones feels much warmer now, healthy and sleep-heavy in Sweet Pea’s arms. Solid and alive. “You’re kind of cute, when you’re fucked out and grumpy.” Sweet Pea murmurs against the back of Jones’ neck and he likes the way it makes Jones shudder.

“Shut up.” Jones throws back at him, face squished into his pillow and voice drowsy.

Letting his own eyes slip shut with a sigh, Sweet Pea presses a kiss and a smug little smile into Jones’ skin, one of his hands spread out possessively over Jones’ stomach. Jones muffles a ‘hmpf’ into the pillow and reaches up to cover Sweet Pea’s palm with his own, threading their fingers together carefully.

There’s still a lot they need to talk about, once both of them are at full mental capacity again, a lot of things that need to be said, but for now, this isn’t so bad. They’ll tackle the rest in the morning, see where this thing leads them, if it leads anywhere at all. At the very least, Sweet Pea thinks, he might be a little less cranky about it the next time Jones decides to drag him along on one of his wild-goose-chase-investigations. Maybe. He’ll probably remember to pack a couple of maps or something, though. Just to be safe.

~*~*~


End file.
